


Set the Sky on Fire

by Dkatgal



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Cult of Bulshar, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s03e02 When You Call My Name, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dkatgal/pseuds/Dkatgal
Summary: A complete re-write of Episode 302 'When You Call My Name'.Team Earp discover the reason behind the Cult of Bulshar massacres, and work to stop whoever is behind them, before the killer strikes again.Nicole begins to remember the brutal massacre that claimed the lives of her aunt and uncle.Dolls leads his team to try and find what Bulshar really wants.





	1. Survivor

_I hear the sweetest sound_  
_My world stops turnin' round_  
_Like I'm on Holy Ground_  
_When you call my name_

_It sets the sky on fire_  
_Burning with my desire_  
_Stronger deeper higher_  
_When you call my name_  
Paul Brandt – When You Call My Name

\---------------------------------

_Ghost River Triangle: 1996_

Her back burned, and her feet were bleeding as she ran through the darkening forest, trying to escape the dying screams of the people behind her. She chanced a glance back over her shoulder, seeing no one, but kept running at a break-neck speed. She’d always been fast, the fastest in her class at school.

It had been so exciting to be told she didn’t have to attend the last week of school, her parents arranging for her to spend time with her Aunt Sarah and Uncle Nick. They were way cooler in Nicole’s opinion, and had brought her to a music festival; braiding flowers into her hair and letting her dance barefoot to her heart’s content. Her parents would never have taken her somewhere like that. 

But then, screams had filled the air, and people started dropping to the ground, bleeding and dying. Time had seemed to slow down, and Nicole only remembered flashes of what had happened next.

Her aunt had died first, her blank blue eyes staring sightlessly at the sky, her chest ruined by a symbol carved into her. 

A white flash.

Her uncle grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her into his arms and yelling at a man in black leather. “You can’t have her!”

A red flash.

The man in leather tossing her uncle to the ground as Nicole screamed and reached for her favourite person in the world. Uncle Nick’s chest bore the same symbol as her aunt’s, blood pouring freely as he lay motionless in the grass.

Next, her shirt had been ripped, and a sharp pain like nothing she’d ever felt before tore into her back.

Blackness.

Nicole had never felt her heart beating so fast, not even after winning first place in the race at school. Not even after running all the way from her house to her uncle’s house last year when her parents hadn’t come home one night, and she’d been so scared she ran 10 blocks.

Her back had burned, and a voice had yelled “Surrender!” and the fear had made her wet herself. Nicole hated that; it hadn’t happened since she was much smaller, and she puffed up her chest in defiance. 

“No!” 

A white flash.

After that, Nicole only remembered running, running, running. The sun had set, and the forest was dark, lit up only by the light of the full moon coming through the trees.

The sound of water made her turn her in that direction, and she soon found herself at the edge of a lake. A yellow boathouse stood at the water’s edge with canoes on the ground. A lone canoe floated in the water, close to a dock. Nicole raced towards it, and tumbled into the rocking canoe, the momentum of the young girl moving the craft away from the dock and further into the water.

Exhausted, Nicole lay flat on her stomach, breathing hard, wanting desperately to cry. Her fist moved up to her mouth and she bit into her knuckles trying to stay silent. Minutes passed, and time felt normal again, the speed of her heart slowing to a normal rate, even as broken as it felt. 

She was so tired, and in so much pain and all she wanted was for her Uncle Nick to pick her up in his strong arms and tell her everything would be alright. She tried not to think about what had happened, tried desperately to believe that she was just having a nightmare. The worst nightmare of her life. 

Unfortunately, Nicole Rayleigh Haught would never be quite the same ever again.

\------------------------------------

_The Earp Homestead: 2016_

Nicole woke screaming, startling Waverly Earp out of her deep sleep, and straight into panicked terror. 

“Baby! It’s okay, you’re dreaming, you’re just dreaming,” Waverly softly touched Nicole’s cheek, gently turning her head to the side to try and get Nicole to make eye contact in the soft light of the morning sun. 

Nicole’s frantic movements took a moment to calm, and Waverly could feel the trembling that shook her girlfriend’s body. Her hand went to Nicole’s hair, stroking gently until eventually Nicole went limp against her. 

“S-sorry,” Nicole croaked, her eyes shining with tears.

Waverly kissed her girlfriend’s forehead fiercely. “You’re safe baby, I promise.”

Nicole nodded weakly, and shifted in their bed until she was draped on top of her girlfriend, her head resting on Waverly’s chest. Waverly’s arms came to circle Nicole’s shoulders, gently running up and down over her skin. Waverly noticed that Nicole was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Was it the same dream again?” she asked softly.

“Uh huhm,” Nicole murmured. “Running in the forest. I – I think it might have been real, Waves. I don’t think it’s a just a nightmare.”

“A memory?” Waverly asked. “Is that possible?”

Nicole sighed and tightened her grip on her girlfriend. “I don’t know. I think I saw my aunt and uncle die.”

Waverly inhaled sharply, her heart clenching at the thought. “Your uncle Nick? You mentioned he died when you were about six.”

“He did,” Nicole said. “My parents always said he and my aunt had died because of a forest fire. I never really questioned it, I just remember being devastated. Uncle Nick was everything to me.”

Waverly felt at a loss for words. Her hands kept up their soothing motion of stroking Nicole’s shoulders, trying to offer what comfort she could. 

“Can you call Dolls?” Nicole asked.

Waverly’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Of course,” she replied, even as she wondered why. 

“After everything with the widows, I asked him if he could get BBD to give him information about Bulshar. He showed them to me months ago, but I couldn’t remember why that name had scared me so badly,” Nicole explained.

Waverly reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts to call Dolls. She pushed the speaker button and the women waited for him to answer.

“Morning Earp,” Dolls deep voice came clearly through the speaker. “You’re up early.”

“Hi Dolls,” Waverly greeted. “Yeah, we both just woke up, and Nicole was wondering if you still have the BBD files on Bulshar?”

“I don’t have the originals, but I made copies before I gave them back to my contact. Did you want me to bring them by?” 

Waverly glanced at Nicole who nodded.

“Yes please,” Waverly answered. “And maybe bring coffee?”

“Can do. See you in about an hour,” he promised, and promptly hung up the phone.

Waverly stared at the device for a moment, and shook her head, always amused by Dolls straight to the point phone manner. She placed the phone back on her bedside table and resumed stroking Nicole’s hair.

They lay there quietly in the morning sun, enjoying the peace of the morning, and each other’s company. After about twenty minutes, Waverly shifted slightly, jostling Nicole out of her position.

“Sorry baby, am I squishing you?” Nicole asked.

“No, no,” Waverly assured her. “I just really need to pee!”

Nicole huffed a laugh and rolled off of Waverly, allowing the woman to move. 

“Did you want to take a shower before Dolls gets here?” Waverly asked.

An intrigued look crossed Nicole’s face. “With you?” 

Waverly’s lips pursed in an effort to keep herself from grinning too widely. “If you’d like.” 

Nicole was up like a shot, kicking the blankets off her body and grabbing Waverly around the waist, lifting her slightly from the ground. Waverly shrieked quietly and twined her arms around Nicole’s shoulders. Nicole’s hands pulled Waverly closer until the shorter woman wrapped her legs around Nicole’s waist.

“I would like,” Nicole assured her, pressing a kiss to Waverly’s lips, uncaring that neither had brushed their teeth. She smiled into the kiss and gently lowered her girlfriend back to her feet.

Waverly pecked another kiss to Nicole’s lips before grinning mischievously. “Race you!”

She took off without any hesitation, and Nicole stood stunned for a brief moment before taking off after her, running towards the giggling woman. In that moment, she felt the demons of the morning being left behind. 

Even if it was only temporary.


	2. Victims

When Dolls arrived at the homestead, Waverly and Nicole were freshly showered and in better spirits. With coffees in hand, Dolls handed over the BBD files to Nicole and the drinks to Waverly. Pulling his jacket off, he watched as Waverly wrapped an arm around Nicole’s waist.

“Something wrong?” he asked, keenly observant as ever.

“No,” Nicole replied quickly. At Waverly’s look, Nicole sighed and shook her head. “Maybe.”

“What’s up?” 

Nicole felt a little awkward admitting what had happened, and looked pleadingly at Waverly. Nicole’s hands slipped into the pockets of her jeans, and the fingers of her right hand brushed up against the cool metal of a ring. Sadly, not the type of ring that she would consider giving to her girlfriend one day. This ring belonged to Bulshar, and Nicole had sworn to keep it safe and out of the hands of any who would attempt to use it for evil.

“Nicole had a crazy nightmare...she woke up screaming,” Waverly said, rubbing at Nicole’s back. “Only, she thinks it may have been a memory.”

Dolls studied the Deputy Sheriff for a moment, and gestured for everyone to take a seat at the kitchen table. 

“What makes you think that, Haught?”

“It was vivid, Dolls. More vivid than I’ve ever dreamt before. It would be easy to explain it away by saying I’m just overlaying what happened at Pussy Willows with my aunt and uncle’s deaths when I was a kid, but...I swear to you, it felt like a memory,” Nicole explained.

Dolls nodded and reached for the pile of folders. He flipped to the reports on the massacres from the last two decades, ones that had happened in Nicole’s life time. He laid them across the table from oldest to newest. 1989, 1996, 2003, 2010 and the latest at Pussy Willows the other night.

“If it is a memory,” Dolls began, “when would it have happened?”

Nicole reached for the file from 1996. “Here.”

Waverly leaned forward and skim-read the document. “Shelterlands Music Festival,” she mused. “They stopped having them after what happened in ’96. A few years after that they renamed the whole area to Purgatory National Park.”

“27 dead, no survivors. BBD worked with the local PD at the time. Looks like Sheriff Ward Earp and Deputy Randy Nedley were on scene within about an hour of the massacre. They called in the Feds when they realised it was a lot bigger than anything they’d ever dealt with before,” Dolls explained, picking out important pieces of the document. “After that, BBD intercepted the case.”

Nicole skimmed the list of the victims. Sure enough, Sarah and Nicholas Haught were named among the dead. 

“Are there pictures in that file?” Nicole asked quietly.

Dolls looked at her, his eyes searching hers as he asked “are you sure you want to see them?”

Nicole swallowed nervously, but gave a tremulous nod. Dolls opened an envelope filed with crime scene photos. He shuffled through them until he came to ones that had been labelled with Sarah and Nick’s names. He glanced meaningfully at Waverly before passing the photos to Nicole.

The deputy sheriff’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment her vision faded to black. She pushed her chair backwards and leant her head forwards into her knees, taking deep breaths. Waverly rubbed circles over Nicole’s back, and gestured to Dolls for him to fetch a glass of water. 

Waverly gently coaxed her girlfriend through half of the glass of cold liquid, kneeling in front of Nicole’s chair and carefully brushing tears from the redhead’s cheeks. 

“I recognise that symbol,” Nicole eventually managed to share. “The one carved into their chests. That’s exactly what I saw in the nightmare. My parents always told me they died in a forest fire.”

Dolls looked mildly uncomfortable as he explained that “BBD had a habit of providing cover stories for the massacres. They started a fire in the forest and let it burn for two days. After it was extinguished, the official story is that the festival got out of hand, and a fire broke out. It’s likely your parents told you that story because that’s what they would have believed.”

Nicole grimaced, shaking her head in disbelief. “So my aunt and uncle were killed by whoever or whatever committed the massacre at Pussy Willows.”

“Jeremy is still looking into everything. He believes that the victims were killed within seconds of each other...all of them. Which means our perp is something that moves faster than anything we’ve ever dealt with before,” Dolls theorised. 

Nicole’s thoughts went to her dream, and the quick flashes of her own memories. She’d thought that the trauma of the attack had caused her to have brief blank spaces, but what if it had just been her perception of a fast moving killer? 

“Do you think we’re looking for a revenant?” Waverly asked.

Dolls gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Maybe. We’ve seen revenants with all kinds of abilities up their sleeves. A speedster isn’t outside the realm of possibility.”

Nicole, feeling calmer and more centered after having come to the conclusion that the nightmare truly was a memory reached for the file of the following massacre from 2003.

“Besides being every 7 years, are there any other patterns? Something that can help us stop whoever, or whatever is behind this?” she asked.

“They all happened in November, and there’re other similarities, but nothing concrete,” Dolls replied. “BBD has been tracking the attacks since 1926. There’s always a different number of victims, always more than 10, but never more than 31. The victims are mostly adults, though there are children in almost every massacre. The symbol is carved into every victim without fail.” 

Waverly reached for the file from the 2010 massacre, and looked over the report. “We need to look at these files and work out what their next move might be. The attack at Pussy Willows was outside of the normal pattern. Dolls, can you bring everything to the living room? We’ll have more space to spread things out.”

Dolls nodded and gathered up the documents as Waverly took Nicole’s hand and tugged her out of her seat and into the living room. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Nicole tilted her head to the side, weighing up how she felt. “I don’t even know, Waves. Part of me’s so, so angry and the rest of me is still so sad.”

Waverly stepped into Nicole’s personal space and lifted onto her toes to bump her forehead softly against Nicole’s. The redhead bent down a little, resting their heads together, breathing the same air for a few moments to re-centre and reconnect. Nicole’s hands found Waverly’s and she gave a grateful squeeze. 

“You make all of this bearable, baby,” Nicole whispered. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Waverly smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the corner of Nicole’s mouth. “You won’t have to.” 

The sound of Dolls clearing his throat pulled the women out of their own bubble, though not out of their embrace. Waverly tucked herself into Nicole’s side, and eased her hand into the back pocket of Nicole’s jeans. 

“Okay, so whenever I start doing research into any new topic, I lay out whatever I have in chronological order. Then, I look for patterns and similarities,” Waverly said.

Nicole nodded, her police training waking in her brain. “In cases like these we should also be looking for geographical significance and victim profiles.”

Dolls nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, so, Waverly - get a map of the Ghost River Triangle. Nicole and I will start pinning up the reports from oldest to newest. Then we can start comparing crime scenes and see what’s the same and what’s different each time.”

Waverly nodded and left the room to grab her maps. Nicole and Dolls worked to put up the reports and crime scene photos across the walls of the living room, until eventually the walls were covered. 

“So, maybe we should start with the locations of the massacres and mark them on the map?” Nicole suggested. “See if there’s something that gives away a home base?”

“Good idea. We’ll start with the oldest and work our way up. Waverly, can you mark it on the map and put the year beside it?” Dolls asked.

Waverly nodded, and the trio made quick work of marking out the 14 different sites of all the known massacres. It was grim to see so many different sites marked up on such a small map. Each of the massacres had taken place in different parts of the Ghost River Triangle, but never outside it. No two attacks had ever occurred in the same place.

With a piece of yarn, Waverly connected the push pins across the page, attempting to see if there was a central location that may provide the cult’s home base. There wasn’t a single point on the map where everything intersected, however.

The group stood back, staring at the map, hoping for a clue, until Nicole took a sharp breath. 

“Baby?”

Nicole stepped forward and unwound the pattern. Carefully she created a new path, moving from one pin to the next until eventually she stepped backwards. Dolls whistled, soft and low beneath his breath. 

“That’s most of Bulshar’s symbol,” Waverly observed quietly. “Where’s the rest of it?”

Dolls looked at the earliest file from 1926. “BBD didn’t start keeping records of the massacres until 1926. It doesn’t mean they didn’t exist, just that there was nothing put to paper.”

Waverly looked thoughtfully at the map. “Nothing recorded by BBD at least,” she mused. 

“What are you thinking, Earp?”

“Well, a lot of my research into the Earp history came from old public records. Newspapers, some old journals, things like that. Just because BBD didn’t track things, doesn’t mean there’s no information,” Waverly said.

“Good thinking,” Dolls praised. “Why don’t you take charge of finding older records, and Haught and I will see what else we can find in the BBD files? Once we know more about all the massacres, we can get a better understanding of what the purpose of them was.”

“I have a ton of old newspapers and journals stored upstairs. When I was looking into all of Wyatt’s kills, I started trying to trace some of the revenants through the last 130 years so we’d know who was who,” Waverly explained, and took off up the stairs.

Nicole grabbed a stack of post-it notes from the junk drawer in the corner of the room and gave half to Dolls. 

“Why don’t I take the newer cases, and you take the older ones,” Dolls offered. “We’ll look at the number of victims, their age ranges, genders, racial and social backgrounds.”

Nodding, Nicole moved to the case file from 1926 and quickly filled several post-its with information on the massacres. Dolls worked quietly on his half of the cases until eventually they met in the middle. Waverly had brought down several old journals and digital copies of old newspapers from 1877 to 1925 and was steadily making notes. She’d had digital copies made after realising that the trek into the larger city library was taking more time than she was spending on her research. 

Already Waverly had added two additional pins to the map of massacres that had happened in 1898 and 1905. The additional sites had also helped to make up part of the symbol associated with Bulshar’s cult.

“Okay, done,” Nicole announced as she reached the end of the seventh case file. Dolls had finished moments before her, and Waverly stood up to join their discussion. 

“Shouldn’t Wynonna be here for this?” Waverly asked. “And Jeremy and Doc?” 

“If you wanna wake the sleeping, hungover dragon, be my guest,” Dolls said.

Waverly grimaced, but determinedly nodded. “She’s the heir, she should definitely be here. You guys call Doc and Jeremy, and I’ll get Wynonna.”

Nicole nodded and pulled out her phone. “Maybe you should take up some coffee.”

Waverly snickered. “Good idea.”


	3. Profiles

A grumpy Wynonna, an amenable Doc and an intrigued Jeremy were ushered through the kitchen and into the living room. The men had been happy to agree to come to the homestead at short notice, Doc even offering to drive Jeremy to the Earp property.

Wynonna had reluctantly agreed to come downstairs for the research findings, though she had already added a shot of whiskey to her coffee.

“Holy murder board, Batman,” Jeremy quipped as he entered the room.

“Uh, what happened to our living room Babygirl?” Wynnona asked.

Waverly shrugged. “We needed the space.”

Wynonna tried not to be too disturbed by the number of pictures of dead bodies plastered across the living room walls.

“Alright, well, you wanted us here, what’s the big discovery?” Wynonna asked.

“Not so much a discovery just yet,” Nicole admitted. “We wanted to make sure everyone was part of the discussion.”

“And that would be a discussion involving the Cult of Bulshar?” Doc asked, as he looked around the room at the case files.

Dolls nodded and gestured towards the map, showing the yarn pattern of Bulshar’s symbol. “These are all the sites where massacre have happened over the last 130 years. We’re still trying to narrow down a few that happened in the late 1800’s, but so far it’s looking like the kill sites were very deliberate.”

Doc hummed thoughtfully. He’d dealt with enough magic users to know that creating patterns in the earth was powerful magic, and could create effects that had wide-spreading results.

“Do you believe these murders were in aid of resurrecting the demon Bulshar?” he asked.

“It’s likely,” Dolls confirmed. “The more we look at these massacres side-by-side, the more we’ve been seeing that they have in common.”

“Such as?” Wynonna prompted. 

“They all happened in November, every 7 years. In every instance, the victims were all adults, and one child. The only exceptions to that were in ’96 and the Pussy Willows attack,” Nicole explained. 

Jeremy’s attention was bouncing between the case files on the wall and Nicole’s explanation. “Why were those two different?” he asked.

Nicole looked at Waverly, who nodded encouragingly at her. “Because in ’96, the child survived the attack.”

Jeremy sensed there was more to the story than that, and looking at the case file he was compelled to ask “there’s nothing in the file about any survivors?”

“I’m pretty sure BBD never knew,” Waverly said.

Wynonna could hear the prevarication in her sisters’ voice and stared at her expectantly. “C’mon Babygirl, don’t keep us waiting.”

Waverly glanced at her girlfriend, who nodded her permission. “The child who survived...it was Nicole.”

The group went still, eyes searching out Nicole, who shifted uneasily with the attention. She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the nervous gesture breaking everyone out of their staring, and quickly offering their sympathy and support.

“I’m sorry dude, that must’ve sucked,” Wynonna offered.

Nicole managed a weak smile at the Earp heir. “Yeah, it did.”

“Oh, woah!” Jeremy breathed, staring wide-eyed at the case files.

“What?” Dolls demanded. “What do you see?”

“Did you notice that the number of victims was always the same as the date the massacre happened?” Jeremy asked.

Wynonna, Dolls and Nicole stepped forward for a better look at the files and the numbers involved. 

“He’s right,” Wynonna announced, “Here, 12th November 1926 there were 12 victims. 18th November 1933 there were 18 victims. It keeps going all the way through to 16th December were there were 16 victims in Pussy Willows. Even though the ritual was early, these douches stuck to what they knew.”

Doc took a closer look at the file from 1996. The massacre had happened on 28th November. “I am sorry to say Officer Haught that it looks as though you were intended to be included in the attack in 1996. There were 27 final victims, but the attack happened on the 28th.” 

Waverly looked at Nicole, stricken with horror at the idea she might never had even met Nicole if everything had gone to plan all those years ago. She wrapped her arms tightly around her girlfriend’s waist and buried her face in Nicole’s neck. Nicole’s strong arms came around to press Waverly closer. Neither wanted to imagine the outcome if Nicole had been killed so early in life.

“Fuck...why does every massacre have to involve a damn six-year-old?” Wynonna grouched. “Bad enough they’re killing a butt-load of adults, why do they have to bring kids into it?”

Dolls paused and shifted his focus from case to case, and sure enough, Wynonna was correct in saying that every massacre, except for 1996, had involved a child of six being slaughtered.

“How old were you in ’96 Haught?” Dolls asked.

“Six,” Nicole confirmed.

“Do you think that’s significant?” Waverly asked.

“Maybe,” Dolls mused. He moved from case file to case file, comparing information as he went. “All the adults died from blood loss.”

“That doesn’t seem all that surprising,” Wynonna said. “Look at them all.”

“Right, only all the children died from heart failure,” Dolls finished. “And yeah, they had Bulshar’s symbol carved into them, but look how shallow the markings are compared to the adults.”

Nicole felt herself grow dizzy and pulled away from Waverly to sit down. Waverly hovered worriedly close by. Wynonna gave her sister a sympathetic smile which Waverly tried her best to return. 

“I remember my back burning in the dream,” Nicole said quietly. “I was bleeding, and my shirt had been ripped. What if they put that symbol on me too?”

Waverly ran her hand over Nicole’s back. “You don’t have any scars on your back, baby.”

Wynonna wrinkled her nose and gave a reflexive “gross” at the couple. 

“We need to know more about this ritual,” Jeremy said. “If we can find out what they were trying to do, maybe that will lead us to working out what Bulshar is up to now.”

Doc looked across to Waverly and offered “I can assist you to look into rituals that relate to what we are seeing here. Back in the day, Wyatt and I had many an encounter with witches and demons attempting all manner of foul doings.”

“Okay, Doc and Waves research the ritual, Dolls, you and I are going to go and chat with a frog in a well,” Wynonna planned. “Jeremy...”

“I’m gonna hack into the autopsy reports on those kids. See if I can’t find out what caused their tickers to stop,” he replied.

“Good thinking,” Waverly complimented. “Baby, maybe you can stay here with Doc and me?”

Nicole shook her head. A thought had been tickling the back of her mind since Dolls had mentioned the name earlier. All morning, more and more flashes of memory were coming to her, and she wondered at the missing spaces. So far, nothing had come to her when she considered what had happened after getting down to the river and jumping into the canoe.

She thinks she might have fallen asleep, but after that there was nothing. She remembers being at home, her parents bundling her up in a black dress to attend the funerals of her aunt and uncle. As a kid, she’d never remembered that she’d been with them at the time of their deaths.

Was what happened so traumatic that she’d completely blanked the memory of being with Nick and Sarah altogether? 

“I think I need to talk to Nedley,” Nicole said. “Dolls said earlier that he was one of the first on scene. If anyone’s gonna know about a survivor, it’ll be him.”


	4. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole talks to Nedley. Wynonna and Dolls negotiate with Bobo

Nicole found Sheriff Nedley behind his desk with a stack of paperwork, an empty breakfast burrito wrap crumpled up beside them. A take-away cup of coffee rested near his hand in easy reach. Nicole rapped her knuckles on the doorframe, catching his attention.

“Officer Haught, what brings you here?” he asked. “I coulda sworn today was your off day.”

“It is,” Nicole confirmed. “I just had a question about an old case of yours.”

Nedley sat back in his seat, and rested his hands on his stomach. “Oh?”

Nicole gestured towards the seat opposite Nedley’s desk in question, and the Sheriff nodded his permission, intrigued by whatever his officer was about to ask. 

“About 20 years ago, there was a massacre that occurred at a music festival. BBD reports say that you and Sheriff Earp were the first ones on scene,” Nicole began. “The official report says there were no survivors. I think you may know differently.”

Nedley breathed in, slow and deep, having wondered about this conversation since the moment he’d began attempting to recruit Nicole Haught.

“Ward and I felt it best to keep certain details away from Black Badge Division. They never did have the best reputation for keeping young ones safe, and frankly after living through something that traumatic, they’d have had to pry that kid out of my cold dead hands,” his voice was low and rough, fierce in his conviction that he’d done right by that scared child.

“I can’t help but wonder - ”

“If I know that kid was you?” he finished Nicole’s broken thought. “Yeah, I know. You might’ve changed your name, and grown up by 20 years, but I knew. I kept an eye on you afterwards. You know those folks of yours...who lets their six year old go to a music festival in the woods?”

Nicole huffed out a sad laugh. “My parents were never anything but selfish.”

Nedley pulled his desk drawer open and rummaged beneath layers of papers until finally coming to an old case note-book. He flipped through the pages until coming to a folded photograph of his younger self crouched beside a six-year old redhead in a PSD cap and jacket. He handed the photo to Nicole.

“You were so damn scared,” Nedley remembered. “But still so damn tough.   
I found you down river from the massacre, you’d gotten yourself into a canoe, and gotten away. You were cut up pretty bad, so I took you to the hospital.”

“Cut up how?” Nicole asked.

“Your feet were pretty torn up from running barefoot. And there was a symbol in blood on your back. When I first saw it, I coulda sworn someone had carved it into you,” Nedley said.

The deputy leant forward in her seat. “Why do you say ‘at first’?”

“Well, I took you to the hospital round about two in the morning, and they cleaned you up some. When I came back to visit about six hours later, the symbol was gone,” he explained. “I figured it must have just been painted on with blood.”

Nicole’s tongue darted out to lick her very dry lips. Her memory wasn’t exactly reliable, but she was nearly 100% certain that the symbol had been carved into her. If it had disappeared the next morning, then what the hell did that mean?

“What brought all this up anyway?” Nedley asked. Nearly before he’d finished the question, understanding had dawned on him. “What happened at Pussy Willows the other night. You think these cases are connected?”

“Yes sir,” Nicole replied. “BBD had files going back 90 years with the same massacres happening every 7 years. The one at Pussy Willows was a year early.”

“Nicole, I may not be completely in the know about whatever it is Wynonna and the Marshal are up to, but I do know this: whoever or whatever is behind those killings had zero hesitation about slaughtering those folks,” Nedley cautioned. “If you’re going after them, you need to look out for yourself.”

Nicole nodded, though part of her knew that there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do to put an end to whatever had killed her aunt and uncle, and slaughtered over 120 people in the name of Bulshar. As she stood up to leave, her right hand brushed over the bulk of the ring in her pocket.

“Will do, Sheriff,” she replied, schooling her features into what she hoped was a good game face. “I promise.”

\----------------------

At around the same time as Nicole and Nedley were having their discussion, Wynonna and Dolls had made their way off the Earp homestead and towards the hidden well just off the Earp property. Hopping out of Dolls’ black SUV, Wynonna pulled Peacemaker out of its holster and made her way towards the well, Dolls barely a step behind her. 

Together, they pulled back the wooden cover on the well, and Wynonna leaned nonchalantly over the brickwork, staring down into the hole.

“Hiya Bobo,” she greeted cheerfully. “You enjoying your quiet time away from everyone?” 

Bobo snarled angrily, getting to his feet and attempting for the umpteenth time to climb the walls and get out of his prison.

“What do you want, Earp?” he spat the heir’s last name like it was a curse.

“I want you to tell me about the Cult of Bulshar,” Wynonna demanded.

Bobo laughed softly and shook his head, pointing a finger up at the woman. “That’s not information I’m inclined to provide for free.”

Wynonna and Dolls had come prepared. Dolls held up a bottle of Shorty’s finest whiskey, and showed it to the captive. 

“This is yours if you tell us what we want to know,” Dolls said.

Bobo stared at the whiskey, unable to deny that he was interested. “That’s not enough.”

“Welp, if you don’t want it, I guess we’ll just be going,” Wynonna said, beginning to pull the wooden cover back over the well.

“Wait!” Bobo yelled.

Wynonna smirked. She shared a look at Dolls who twitched his lips in satisfaction. Bobo could be quite predictable sometimes.

“How about this; you give me that whiskey, and I’ll answer two questions, how’s that?” Bobo bargained.

Wynonna took a moment before nodding her agreement. “Done. Give me and my colleague here a moment to discuss our questions.”

She pulled Dolls away from the well and out of Bobo’s hearing range. 

“Two questions,” Dolls said. “We better make ‘em good.”

They spent a few more moments in discussion before coming to an agreement on their questions. They made their way back to the well, and called down to get the revenants attention once more.

“Okay Bobo, question numero uno,” Wynonna said. “Will you please tell us the name or names of the people/revenants/demons/whatever that are behind the massacres?”

Bobo tilted his head from side to side, considering the wording of the question. It was a testament to how well he and the heir knew each other that she’d considered how he might loophole around providing an answer.

“His name’s Bondicus. Montgomery Bondicus, back in the day,” Bobo said.

Wynonna snorted and whispered the last name to herself in amusement. Dolls pulled out his phone and sent the name in a text message to Waverly.

“Laugh all you want, Earp, but even I knew to keep far, far away from him. He’s been offering fealty to Bulshar since before the demon was entombed,” Bobo said. “He was the Deputy Sheriff during Bulshar’s reign of terror over Purgatory. He clung to Clootie like a fly on shit. I wasn’t surprised to see him on my first trip back from hell back in the early 30’s. Bulshar must’ve made him immortal.”

“Second question,” Dolls said. “What does Bulshar want now that he’s back among the living?”

Bobo shook his head, and took a step backwards. “That’s not the right question.”

“Then what is?” Wynonna asked.

“What has Bulshar always wanted?” Bobo replied.

“Okay, so, what has Bulshar always wanted?” Dolls repeated.

“To get back in.” 

“Back in?” Wynonna asked. “Back in where?” 

Bobo grinned maniacally. “You’re all out of questions.”

Wynonna cursed and slammed her hand against the brick work of the well. “Dammit.”

Dolls reached out a hand to touch Wynonna’s shoulder. “We’ll work it out.”

The heir shook her head, frustrated that Bobo couldn’t just be straight with them for once in his life. Their tentative almost-truce at times had come in handy, and she wondered what sort of truce Bobo and her father had once had.

“I answered your questions, now give me my whiskey!” Bobo yelled up.

Dolls glanced down, and with a careless shrug, dropped the bottle down the well. Bobo lunged to catch it before it could hit the ground, barely managing to hold onto it. He cradled it to his chest like a newborn and fell backwards to the ground, unscrewing the cap and chugging down several mouthfuls.

Wynonna and Dolls carefully pulled the wooden cover back over the well and headed over to Dolls’ SUV. 

“At least we have a name,” Dolls said. 

Wynonna couldn’t help but snort with laughter once more. “Bondicus. What a stupid name.”


	5. Revelations

The group was back on the homestead in time for lunch, which Nicole had picked up on her way back from town. Crowded around the kitchen table, eating Thai food, they shared their morning’s discoveries. 

“The dude’s name is Bondicus,” Wynonna shared, with a grin. “Monty Bondicus.”

“Laugh all you want, Wynonna,” Waverly said. “But his family was the real deal back in the day. One of the original families in Purgatory. According to the records, the Bondicus’ made a fortune during the American Civil War, and Montgomery actually served briefly in the Union Army. He returned and ended up taking the post as a Deputy Sheriff alongside Sheriff Clootie. He married Jane Endicott, and they had a son named Wendell. The Bondicus line vanished after Wendell was killed in 1884. After that Montgomery faded out of society and before today, it was thought he died not long after his son.”

“And I thought Monty Bondicus was bad,” Wynonna chuckled. “Wendell is way worse!”

“Wendell was only six years old when he was killed,” Doc said. “It is always a tragedy to lose one so young.”

Wynonna abruptly stopped her snickering. There wasn’t anything funny about a dead six year old. Her mind wandered for a moment to wondering what her daughter Alice would look like at six years old, before forcing herself away from that rabbit hole of emotions.

“Wait, Wendell died when he was six?” Nicole asked. “In 1884?”

“Yup, exactly right. Why?” Waverly wondered.

Nicole did a quick bit of mental mathematics. “Because that’s exactly seven years after Bulshar was trapped by the widows. If Wendell was six, is it possible that he was the first child to be offered up to Bulshar as a sacrifice?”

“You think Bondicus sacrificed his own son?” Dolls asked. “That’s a pretty extreme move, even for someone as scary as this guy’s meant to be.”

Jeremy hastily swallowed a bite of his sautéed tofu with noodles. “If Wendell was the first, maybe we’re not looking at sacrifices here. Maybe we’re looking at a bunch of attempts at Bulshar jumping bodies.”

The group turned to stare at him curiously.

“Uh, what I mean is, maybe Bondicus was trying to resurrect Bulshar, but instead of doing what the widows did and breaking the seals, he was just trying to pull Bulshar’s spirit out of his tomb, and into his son,” Jeremy posited his theory.

Doc nodded thoughtfully. “I do believe that Jeremy may be onto something here. Waverly and I were looking into similar rituals and found elements of these massacres to follow suit of rites designed for spiritual possession. Perhaps Bondicus was offering up his son as the host to the spirit of Bulshar.”

“Well, that’s terrifying,” Waverly mused.

“Except none of the kids ever managed to get possessed, right?” Wynonna asked. “They all died of heart attacks.”

Nicole tried not to vomit up what little lunch she’d managed to eat. “All except one.”

Waverly reached out to grip Nicole’s hand, her thumb stroking soothingly across Nicole’s knuckles. 

“Well, maybe you were strong enough to beat him,” Jeremy suggested.

Nicole didn’t know what had happened when she was younger, and worried that the more they researched the massacres and who was behind them, the more the memories would return. She’s had chronic nightmares as a child that had tapered off during her teens and early twenties. They’d started up again after the showdown between Wynonna and the widows, where Mercedes had mentioned Bulshar’s name. Ever since, the nightmares had been a constant and unwelcome addition to her evening.

“There weren’t any kids killed in this last massacre at Pussy Willows,” Dolls said. “Do we think that’s because Bulshar is back, so there was no need to try and take over a kid?”

“A likely theory,” Doc agreed. “And though I do not wish to terrify any of you, but I cannot help but wonder what will come from a ritual that was likely designed to make Bulshar stronger.”

Wynonna grimaced thoughtfully. “He was trapped for 130 years. Widow Beth wanted to feed Bulshar with my baby to make him stronger, but that sure as hell wasn’t gonna happen. Then Doc and I killed the Widows, so Bulshar needed something else to make him stronger. Maybe this ritual was it.”

The group fell quiet, each wondering what a Bulshar at full strength was going to look like. Their research last year had pointed towards Bulshar being a strong opponent, who’d only been stopped, not killed. Even then, it had only been achieved by his own wife, Constance Clootie helping with the entombment that had kept him out of action all these decades. 

“Did Bobo tell you anything about what Bulshar might be up to?” Waverly asked.

Dolls shook his head. “Nothing coherent,” he replied. “Just that Bulshar wanted to ‘get back in’. Only he refused to tell us what that even meant.”

While no one in the group had truly expected Bobo to answer their questions in detail, they had certainly held out hope that the revenant would be able to provide them with some form of explanation that would help them defeat Bulshar, and ultimately break the Earp curse.

“I don’t know if I can explain any of that, but I can say that Bulshar is probably not his real name,” Waverly said.

“What makes you say that?” Wynonna asked.

“Because it’s not found anywhere in any written history. The closest I could find is ‘Balzer’ which is a derivative of ‘Balthazar’.”

Nicole cocked her head to the side in vague recognition of the name. “Call me crazy, but isn’t that the name of a demon in the Bible?”

“You are not crazy Officer Haught, but I am afraid that you are wrong,” Doc replied. “The only biblical Balthazar’s are mortal men. One of them was even considered a wise man.”

Jeremy piped in with “you’re probably thinking of one of the demon dudes from Charmed. Or Supernatural. Or Buffy, for that matter. Pop culture really went to town on demonising that name.”

“Well, it’s not like Bulshar’s about to make it any more popular,” Wynonna quipped. 

“Okay, but it’s still not exactly a modern name. Is it possible that he’s much older than we thought?” Nicole asked. “Older than Doc, even?”

“It’s not impossible,” Dolls replied. “For now I think we need to concentrate on finding Bondicus, and stopping any future massacres. If we’re right and the ritual does make Bulshar stronger each time, we definitely don’t want to have this guy roaming free.”

Wynonna nodded. “Agreed. He killed 16 people in a matter of seconds, so we know he’s not messing around. And if he is holed up with Bulshar, then finding him means finding them both, which is a two-fer I can get behind.”

“Doc, Waverly, see what you can find that could lead us to Bondicus in the here and now. Jeremy, keep looking into COD’s and the autopsy results from the massacres, we need to determine how this guy operates. Haught, I know it sucks, but we’re gonna need to you try and remember anything about what happened that night. Earp, you’re with me,” Dolls delegated to each of the group.

The group agreed with Dolls’ tasks, and dispersed to commence their roles. Nicole hung back and caught Jeremy’s attention. The former BBD scientist bounced on the balls of his feet, his barely contained energy keeping him in motion.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“How easy would it be for you to get access to some old medical records?” Nicole asked.

“About as easy as the Arrow shooting a bullseye at a moving target with his eyes closed,” Jeremy boasted. 

Nicole took that to mean it would be relatively easy for the man. “Okay, great. I need to you pull my medical file from ’96.” 

“Sure, that’s easy,” Jeremy said, beginning to move in the direction of his laptop. Nicole followed him and took the seat beside his. She quickly let him know which hospital to look for records from, and watched as he began.

Jeremy’s fingers flew easily across the keyboard, pulling up different sites, and opening backdoors into Purgatory Memorial’s records, careful to mask his own digital trail so as to not get caught hacking into private and confidential information. The last thing they needed was for a federal investigation from the FBI or NSA tangling up their fight against Bulshar.

“Okay, I’m in,” Jeremy said. “Only...I’m not finding your name in any of these records.”

Nicole’s lips pursed in dislike at what she was about to reveal. 

“Jeremy, what I’m about to tell you needs to stay completely between us,” she said, her voice low and serious. “Which means, you cannot tell anyone, including Waverly or Doc, got it?”

The scientist nodded nervously, his head bobbing rapidly up and down. “Sure, of course. No problems.”

“My name wasn’t always Nicole Haught,” she admitted.

Jeremy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Woah! Is this like some sort of crazy witness protection story?”

“Nothing that interesting I’m afraid. Just a very unfortunate name given to me by my negligent hippy parents. Try using the name Star Light Blaise,” Nicole could feel the tips of her ears burning red, memories of the taunting she’d endured as a child racing through her.

Jeremy bit his lower lip hard and forced himself to say nothing, even though a hundred comments came to mind. He turned back to his laptop and entered the unfortunate name, a record coming back quickly.

“Here we go,” Jeremy said. “Looks like St- uh, you – were admitted to the hospital at about 2am on 29th November, brought in by Deputy Sheriff Nedley. You were treated for cuts on your feet, and oh...”

“Oh, what Jeremy?” Nicole asked, reaching for the laptop.

Jeremy pushed the computer towards her, and Nicole stared at a picture of her younger self taken of her back. Nedley had been right, there had been a symbol there. Nicole leaned in for a better look, unable to tell if the symbol had been carved, or like Nedley had thought, painted onto her.

“The nurse on duty reported that she cleaned the wound on your back, left the room to get a suturing kit, and when she came back, the wound was gone,” Jeremy read. 

“And she didn’t think that was weird?” Nicole asked.

Jeremy shrugged. “This is Purgatory, my friend. Weird is routinely shrugged off. Kinda reminds me of Sunnydale in a lot of ways.”

“Well, here’s hoping a Hellmouth doesn’t pop up spontaneously,” Nicole replied drily. “We’re already half-way to hell.”


	6. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna and Dolls get into trouble and the team comes to the rescue.

Wynonna idly fiddled with the radio of the SUV, more to annoy Dolls than to truly find something to listen to. Dolls spared a glance at her, more than used to her antics after over a year of working together. 

“Where are we going anyway?” Wynonna asked.

“Back when BBD was hunting for me, and I was hiding out, I came across a cabin in the woods. It looked abandoned, so I went in, thinking I could stay there the night, keep dry, maybe get to cook myself a meal,” Dolls said. “Only, when I opened the door, something felt...wrong.”

The heir looked at him sceptically. Her boss-turned-partner wasn’t exactly known for getting spooked by an old cabin in the woods.

“I looked around for a bit, and came across some old Civil War memorabilia. When Waverly mentioned that Bondicus had served in the Union Army, it reminded me of what I saw,” Dolls explained. 

“Wait, hold the fuck up...you think you know where this Bondicus dude might be, and we’re going with no back-up?” Wynonna asked. 

Dolls gave her a withering look. “I don’t think he’s there anymore. I’m pretty sure Bulshar will have them camped out somewhere a little more comfortable. From all accounts, Bulshar had expensive tastes back in the day.”

Wynonna nodded and went back to fiddling with the radio. Eventually she settled on a station with some old classic rock music, and she leant back in her seat. Her mind wandered as she stared idly out the window, watching the trees grow thicker as they headed into the woods. 

She was jerked out of her day-dreaming as Dolls slammed on the breaks, too late to avoid hitting the fallen tree as they drove around a blind bend. Wynonna’s head bounced off the windscreen, and she was slammed back into her seat, dazed.

Dolls reached out an arm, gripping Wynonna’s wrist, his voice urgent as he asked “Earp, you okay?”

Wynonna felt dizzy, her eyes unable to focus. A dark shadow appeared behind Dolls, but the heir was too disoriented to provide any sort of warning. The driver’s side door was ripped off of the SUV, and thrown into the woods. 

Dolls scrambled to get his weapon out from his holster, but he was pulled out of the car by a tall man with an ugly scar on his face. The leather clad attacker was dressed militaristically, a beret slouched over his head. Dolls was thrown to the ground, though he quickly found his feet, and finally managed to pull out is gun.

Whoever had attacked him had disappeared into thin air.

The Deputy Marshal kept his gun at the ready, head and body swivelling in a practiced sweeping motion as he made his way back to the truck. He quickly opened the passenger side door, and took in the damage to Wynonna’s head. She appeared to be unconscious, and was bleeding profusely, though he knew that head wounds always did.

“Alright Earp, we need to get you to the hospital,” he said. “I don’t know where Bondicus went, but we sure as hell need to get outta here.”

Dolls came back around to sit in the driver’s seat, and attempted to start the engine of the car, which only sputtered pitifully. After several attempts, Dolls slammed his hands against the steering wheel. He pulled out his cell phone, dismayed to notice that there was no reception this deep in the forest. 

He stepped out of the SUV and moved to the trunk of the vehicle, opening it to retrieve the emergency satellite phone he kept in there at all times. He punched in a number from memory, and waited about twenty seconds for the call to connect.

“Officer Haught speaking.”

“Haught, it’s Dolls. Earp and I were intercepted along the road in the Purgatory National Park. We’re about 3 miles in, not too far from the Ranger’s station. My SUV is out of commission, and Wynonna’s unconscious with a head injury,” Dolls summarised quickly.

Nicole was silent for a seond, taking in the slew of information.

“Copy that Dolls, I’m en route with the team. ETA about 18 minutes.”

The line disconnected and Dolls replaced the sat phone into the charging dock in the trunk. He grabbed the emergency medical kit and returned to Wynonna’s side.

\-----------------------------

Nicole was anxious as she drove hastily, lights and sirens flashing on the police cruiser towards the National Park. Waverly sat in the front seat beside her. Doc and Jeremy were following behind in Doc’s red muscle car, keeping pace with Nicole’s cruiser easily.

“What do you think happened out there? Where were they even going?” Waverly asked.

Nicole gave a half hearted shrug. “I dunno Waves. Dolls wasn’t exactly forthcoming, y’know.”

“Yeah, he never is. Dammit, I don’t even notice when he’s being squirrelly anymore.”

Waverly idly caressed the shotgun that lay in her lap, unloaded. When Nicole had shouted up the stairs that Wynonna and Dolls were in trouble, Waverly hadn’t hesitated to grab her trusty shotgun and a box of ammunition. 

Whatever was about to happen, she was going to be ready for it.

Nicole kept up the quick pace of the drive for as long as she could, eventually being forced to slow down to a near crawl as they entered the Park, and the road became more dirt than asphalt. She drove as fast as she dared, knowing that time could be of the essence.

They eventually came upon the broken down SUV, though neither Dolls nor Wynonna were in sight. 

Parking the car, Nicole and Waverly exited, Waverly quickly loading her shotgun, and Nicole un-holstering her service weapon. They stayed close to each other, protecting each others’ back.

“Wynonna!” Waverly called. “Dolls!”

There was no answer from the forest. 

The rumbling of Doc’s car distracted them for a moment as the remainder of their team arrived. Doc was quick to join the ladies, his own pistol at the ready. Jeremy rounded out the group, bringing with him his trusty digital tablet.

“I’ve been tracking Dolls’ movements during the drive,” Jeremy said. “He’s not far from here, maybe half a mile. Looks like he’s near the river just to the east of here.”

“Okay, let’s move quickly,” Nicole said. “Dolls said Wynonna was injured, and that they were ambushed. That means we need to stay together and keep our eyes open.”

They made a quick pitstop back to the cruiser, where Nicole grabbed a loaded backpack from the trunk of the car. Doc began leading them towards the east, putting his excellent tracking skills to work to follow the path Wynonna and Dolls had taken.

Jeremy’s estimate of half a mile had proven to be accurate. As they worked their way closer, Nicole could hear the sound of running water and nearly tripped over a tree root as she vividly recalled her race through the woods as a six year old, desperate to get to the river, hoping it would provide her with some safety.

They broke out of the tree line, and found themselves on the shore of one of the many off-shoots of the Ghost River. Nicole’s eyes tracked to the fading yellow boat house across the way. The dock she’d raced towards as a child now battered but still standing.

“Waves, this is where I escaped all those years ago,” Nicole quietly informed her girlfriend.

Waverly took in the landscape with fresh eyes, her heart aching as she imagined a smaller, younger Nicole running through the dark towards the water.

“I don’t think that’s a coincidence,” the deputy finished.

Movement from the side of the boathouse caught their attention, and Jeremy reacted first, “Dolls!” 

“Dolls, thank god,” Waverly muttered, as the group moved towards the Marshal. “Are you okay? Where’s Wynonna?”

“She’s okay. She’s conscious and upright, and I mostly stopped the bleeding,” Dolls said. “Waverly, why don’t you come help me get her out of the boathouse and into Haught’s car.”

Waverly nodded and half-ran towards the boathouse.

Doc glanced warily around their surroundings. “This place feels wrong,” he observed. “As though there is something malevolent nearby.”

Jeremy nodded his agreement. “As Han Solo would say; I have a bad feeling about this.”

Nicole was about to add her agreement when a dark-clad soldier appeared in a flurry of what looked like miniature bats. Jeremy yelped and tripped backwards as the soldier grabbed the collar of Doc’s shirt and lifted him into the air.

Aiming her gun carefully so as to not hit Doc, Nicole fired two shots at the attackers’ centre mass. The soldier glanced Nicole’s way, threw Doc against the wall of the boathouse and began stalking towards her.

Jeremy’s hands shook as he pulled out the blaster he’d made months ago, shooting it at the soldier. It had no effect, except to make the man angry. In the blink of an eye, he’d disintegrated into tiny bats, and reintegrated directly in front of Jeremy, kicking the smaller man’s chest causing Jeremy to fall backwards, out of breath and gasping.

Nicole kept shooting at the soldier, aware that she was wasting her bullets. Her gun clicked empty as the man came to stop in front of her. 

“You cannot kill me with mortal weapons,” the soldier said calmly. 

The deputy chanced a glance towards the boathouse. “Dolls!” 

A hand gripped tightly around her throat, lifting her into the air. She kicked at him, and clawed at his hands, but his grip remained tight. Black spots crept into the edges of her vision, and her lungs burned, desperate for oxygen.

“Enough Montgomery,” a smooth voice proclaimed from just behind Nicole. “This is the one who got away from me all those years ago.”

The hand holding Nicole up released her abruptly, and she fell to the ground, landing on her knees. Her hand massaged her throat, and she gasped for air. She looked up at the well-dressed gentleman standing in front of her.

“Bulshar,” she wheezed.

“That’s Lord Bulshar to you,” the soldier kicked her in the back, sending her sprawling.

Bulshar leant down and grabbed Nicole by the hair with his left hand, pulling her to her feet. His right hand moved to her back, his palm flat. Nicole screamed loudly as her back began to burn. Bulshar let her go, and Nicole frantically ripped off her jacket and jumper, leaving her in a tank top. 

She twisted her head trying to see what was on her shoulder, and from the corner of her eye, she saw blood leaking from the familiar looking tip of Bulshar’s symbol.

It hadn’t been a dream at all.


	7. Confrontation

“Get the hell away from her!” 

Nicole nearly sobbed in relief as she heard Wynonna’s voice, and the whistle of Peacemaker as it prepared itself to fire. 

“I think you’ll find that this one is mine,” Bulshar claimed. He grabbed Nicole and forcefully twisted her so that Wynonna could see the symbol on her shoulder. He kept a strong grip on Nicole, fingers digging painfully into the tip of the bleeding symbol as he forced her to her knees. “Imbued with several of my gifts when she was child. She’ll be a perfect soldier in my army.”

“I’m pretty sure she belongs to my sister,” Wynonna replied, aiming her gun straight at Bulshar’s head. “Now make your peace.”

The heir pulled the trigger, and a bullet burst forth from the chamber, but Bulshar stood calmly by, one hand still on Nicole’s shoulder. 

“You think you can kill me with your ancestor’s gun?” Bulshar laughed. “You believe that I, who cursed your family, could be defeated by the infamous weapon of the Earp’s?”

Wynonna cursed below her breath, having not truly considered the implications of having to fight the demon who had created the curse. The ammolite bullet fashioned to originally defeat Bulshar had gone to defeating the widows instead. 

Bulshar released his grip on Nicole, and to Wynonna’s disgust brought up his bloodied fingers to his mouth, licking them slowly.

“Gross dude,” Wynonna complained.

“She tastes magnificent.”

“Don’t you fricken’ dare taste my girlfriend you shit-ticket!” Waverly yelled angrily, emerging from the boathouse with Dolls. 

Dolls moved to check on Doc and Jeremy, relieved to find them mostly intact, though Doc was unconscious and Jeremy’s arm was broken. 

Emboldened by the presence of the Earp sisters, Nicole scrambled to her feet and spun with a highkick that her kick-boxing instructor would have been proud of. Unfortunately for Nicole, Bulshar barely even flinched. He stretched out a hand towards her, and the pain in her back flared bright and hot, sending her to the ground in agony.

“Nicole!” 

Wynonna held her sister back, struggling to hold onto Waverly as she tried to make a break towards the redhead. Knowing that not even Peacemaker would work against Bulshar, Wynonna knew there was nothing her sister could do against the demon.

“Oh child, that mark means you can’t hurt me. You were meant for greater things than helping the Earps fail endlessly at their curse.” Bulshar turned to look at his loyal solider. “Kill the others. This one is mine.”

Wynonna pulled Waverly behind her, and lifted Peacemaker towards the approaching soldier. She shot once, twice, each to no effect. Montgomery Bondicus grinned widely, the scar stretching across his face grotesquely as the Earp’s backed away in fear. 

Dolls came up behind the women, firing his own weapon at the soldier. 

“Your weapons can’t harm me!” he boasted.

In the blink of an eye he dissolved into a black mass, and then reappeared directly behind Waverly, grabbing her away from her sister. Wynonna lunged towards them, and was pushed back by the soldier’s superior strength. 

Dolls roared angrily and leapt towards them. Bondicus released Waverly, tossing her towards Wynonna, where the two women crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. 

The military men grappled viciously, Dolls getting in as many punches as he could, and attempting to defend against being on the receiving end of the fight. Dolls kicked out at Bondicus, the momentum of the kick sending the soldier back towards where the Earps were regaining their bearings.

Dolls grabbed hold of the soldier and yanked him away from them, only to lose his grip as Bondicus dissolved once again. He yelled in frustration, and felt his eyes light up with fire. 

“Kill them!” Bulshar commanded loudly.

Dolls glanced over, angered to see that Bulshar had a hand outstretched over Nicole’s shoulder, as she writhed in pain on the ground. He spared a look to see Jeremy still tending to the unconscious Doc, and a frightened Waverly being held by Wynonna.

He deliberately allowed himself to feel the fire, feel the rage, stoke the heat of the inferno that he’d only ever allowed himself to do to protect those that he loved. And everyone that he loved was in danger. 

Xavier Dolls calculated the most likely place that Bondicus would reappear, and ran in that direction, vindicated a moment later as he grabbed the soldier by the scruff of the neck, holding him in place. The dragon inside him roared, with anger, and pain and fire. 

He let it build higher than he’d let it before, trapping Bondicus in a ball of flame. The soldier tried his best to dissolve and scatter, but the heat and flame burned even brighter until nothing was left but ashes.

Dolls fell to his knees, exhausted and empty.

Bulshar’s lips curled into a sneer, and he let go of his hold over the symbol on Nicole’s back. 

His trusted servant, his most loyal lieutenant was dead. He intended to make sure the same thing happened to Wynonna. 

Before he could move towards Dolls, he felt a hand grip his ankle, and looked down to see Nicole had reached out to touch him. 

“Stay the hell away from my family.”

Bulshar was confused until he felt the touch of metal. His ring!

“Where did you get that?” 

“None of your goddamn business,” Nicole forced herself to one knee, and pushed up to stand before him. She put her hand against his chest, the ring pulsing against him. “You lose. You can’t have me, and you sure as hell aren’t getting my team.”

Bulshar stared covetously at the ring. He made a grab for her hand, but found himself repulsed by the energy of the ring, being blown backwards and sprawling awkwardly to the ground.

Nicole stared at the ring, surprised by its power. “I think it likes me better than it liked you.”

Bulshar glared angrily and growled out a final “This isn’t over!” before vanishing out of sight.

Waverly didn’t hesitate to race towards her girlfriend, throwing herself into Nicole’s arms. Nicole hugged her tightly burying her face in Waverly’s hair and breathing deeply. 

Wynonna approached Dolls and helped him to his feet. “You okay?”

“Tired,” he breathed his reply. 

“I’ll bet, dragon man.” Her gaze wandered over to Doc and Jeremy. “Jay, are you alright? What about Doc?”

“I’m fine,” Jeremy assured her. “Doc’s okay too, just knocked out. He’ll probably have a headache when he wakes up, but nothing worse than a hangover.”

Wynonna tucked herself under Dolls’ shoulder, helping to keep the tall man upright. 

“Shit, we actually did it,” she realised. “We killed Limp-dick-us. I mean, sure, we didn’t get Bulshart, but Level 1 complete!”

“He’s gonna be a hard boss to beat,” Jeremy said.


	8. Conclusion

Nearly a week after Bondicus had been defeated, the team hadn’t seen any hint of Bulshar, or anyone who may have been a new evil minion. It had been surprisingly quiet, though they weren’t about to complain when there was a chance for any type of break from the chaos of their lives. 

Wynonna had spent most of the week trying to track down Bulshar’s hideout, certain that he had taken over residence of one of the old families of Purgatory. So far, nothing had panned out, but she wasn’t about to give up hope. 

After a week of recovery, Dolls still found himself growing tired on occasion, and hadn’t felt a flicker of the dragon fire since the show-down with Bondicus. Part of him worried that he had used every ounce of his powers, and part of him prayed that he had. He almost felt like he had before BBD had started experimenting on him. 

He’d asked Jeremy to run some tests, and while his blood work still showed that he had foreign DNA floating through his body, Jeremy had said that it looked as though the mutated cells were evolving into something new. What that would be, the scientist couldn’t say, and Dolls could only hope that whatever happened, he could keep a handle on it and protect his friends.

He’d made sure to spend some time with Nicole, worried for the deputy sheriff after seeing Bulshar’s ring adorning her hand at the end of the fight. He’d warned her not to put it on, worried by the power of the ring. After seeing what it had done to Widow Mercedes, he wasn’t sure what that sort of power would do to a human. 

Nicole, thankfully, had taken off the ring, and sealed it in a small metal box, locked with a key that she’d discarded. Nicole had taken a day-trip outside the Ghost River Triangle to a small bank where she’d placed it in a safety deposit box under a fake name. It would be near impossible for Bulshar to find.

The deputy sheriff’s nightmares about the massacre she’d survived hadn’t returned even once during the week, which both Nicole and Waverly were grateful for. Nicole wondered if seeing her uncle’s killer again, and watching Dolls destroy him for good had given her the closure that she’d needed.

She’d spent whatever parts of the week when she wasn’t working on the homestead with the Earps. She and Waverly had been keen to celebrate their survival, no matter how loudly Wynonna complained about their volume.

Laying together in Waverly’s bed, Nicole shifted until her nose could nuzzle against her girlfriend’s. Waverly smiled softly and lifted her hand to gently touch the scar at Nicole’s left temple, a reminder of a biking accident from when she was younger. Thankfully the scar left from Bulshar’s symbol had disappeared once more, leaving Nicole’s back pristine. 

“What’cha thinking about?” Waverly asked.

“You. Us. That noise you made when I - ”

Waverly’s hand quickly moved from Nicole’s temple to her mouth. “Okay, that’s enough of that,” she laughed. 

Nicole grinned and kissed Waverly’s palm. Her hand snuck up to grab hold of Waverly’s and pulled it down to rest between her breasts.

“You know...Jeremy told me a secret the other day,” Waverly said with a smile.

The redhead tried not to react, hoping against hope that Jeremy hadn’t revealed what she’d told him the week before.

“Oh?” 

“Mmhmm,” Waverly hummed. “About a certain someone, and their very adorable name.”

Nicole groaned and moved to rest her head against Waverly’s neck. “He didn’t,” she murmured against Waverly’s skin.

“Oh, he did,” Waverly assured her.

“Dammit, he cannot keep a secret for the life of him,” Nicole complained.

“If it makes you feel any better, he swore that he wouldn’t tell Wynonna,” Waverly said.

Nicole moaned dramatically and flopped onto her back. “God, can you imagine if Wynonna knew that my name used to be Star.”

Waverly gasped. “What?!”

Nicole shot up, looking horrified. “What?”

The shorter woman covered her mouth trying to hide her smile.

“Holy shit, you played me!” Nicole realised, pouncing on top of her girlfriend and finding all of her ticklish spots.

Waverly squealed and tried to squirm away. She couldn’t contain her laughter, eventually snorting through her glee. 

“Uncle! Uncle!” Waverly yelled.

Nicole stopped the tickling, though stayed close to her girlfriend, using an elbow to prop herself up beside Waverly, their noses touching. Waverly smiled lovingly and found Nicole’s lips with her own. 

“You are very cheeky, Waverly Julienne Earp,” Nicole whispered into the kiss.

“You love that about me, Nicole ‘Star’ Haught,” Waverly replied.

Nicole’s smile fell. “Baby, I...I really don’t want you to call me that.”

Waverly felt her own smile fade at the serious tone in her girlfriend’s voice. “I’m sorry Nicole, I never meant to upset you. Jeremy slipped that Nicole hadn’t always been your name. He refused to tell me what it was, only that he thought it was kind of adorable.”

Nicole sighed softly. “It might seem that way, but god was I teased something fierce. I had it changed the second I was old enough.”

“For your Uncle Nick?” Waverly asked.

Nicole nodded. “Yeah. He was my mother’s older brother. Nicholas Haught was the father I wished I’d had growing up. I took my middle name from my grandmother, Margaret Rayleigh.”

“So, Nicole Rayleigh Haught,” Waverly said.

“Yeah. It had a lot more meaning than Star Light Blaise ever did,” Nicole said. 

Waverly pressed a soft kiss to Nicole’s lips. “I won’t call you that again, I promise. And I swear I’ll never tell Wynonna.”

The door flung open, and they both jumped in surprise. 

“Won’t tell Wynonna what?” the Earp heir asked suspiciously.

“About this thing Nicole did with her tongue last night,” Waverly replied without hesitating.

Wynonna looked horrified, and then plugged her ears with her fingers. “Lalalalala, I can’t hear you, lalalalala.”

Waverly grinned and winked at Nicole. 

“Seriously, I’m pretty sure you’d have been impressed,” Waverly raised her voice to be heard over Wynonna’s chants.

Nicole snorted into her hand and tried to stop her laughter.

“Okay, okay, I get the message,” Wynonna said. “Sheesh people, learn some boundaries!”

“Uh, pretty sure our boundaries are fine,” Nicole replied. “You’re the one who keeps barging in without knocking.”

“Yeah, well, I gotta make sure you’re looking after my baby sister Haughttie,” Wynonna said.

Waverly grinned wickedly. “She takes great care of me.”

Wynonna mimicked vomiting and threw the nearest object she could get her hands on at the pair. The throw cushion hit Waverly square in the face, and she spluttered in indignation. 

“Anyway, Dolls and Jeremy are here, and they brought breakfast. Dolls thinks he has a lead on what Bulshar wants,” Wynonna informed them. “Oh, and Jeremy told me to say ‘Avengers Assemble’, so...let’s assemble already!” 

She left the room, not particularly wanting to stick around to work out if her sister had actually been naked under the covers or not. 

Waverly turned to Nicole and grinned. 

“Shall we?” 

Nicole quirked her eyebrows and grinned. “Yeah. Let’s finish this.”

The duo crawled out from under Waverly’s many blankets, Nicole getting tangled and tripping to the ground. She couldn’t help but laugh until her eyes caught sight of something shiny hidden just under the edge of the bedframe.

With a shaking hand, she picked up the clunky black ring that had once belonged to Bulshar. The ring that was supposed to be safely hidden in a safe outside the Ghost River Triangle.

“Oh shit.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos. It was fun getting back into fic writing!
> 
> Hit me up on twitter @KatSmithski

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I haven't written more than about 500 words in one sitting in more than 6 years.
> 
> After watching the Wynonna Earp finale yesterday (29/09/18), and being mildly disappointed at a dropped thread about Nicole's backstory, I sat down and wrote 4500 word in the span of about 3 hours.  
> I wasn't really expecting to finish this, as when I was writing back in the day, I would start things and never know quite where to end them. Today, I wrote another 7500 words, and completed this story. This fic came to 12,000+ words (and an additional 800 words of notes), and was written in the span of about 30 hours (including the 8 I was sleeping). 
> 
> It is complete at 8 chapters long. I will likely post a new chapter every few days (except over the weekend from 5th - 9th as I'll be away on vacay). I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Find me on Twitter @KatSmithski


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